


Two Steps Away

by AGirlAndABeast



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGirlAndABeast/pseuds/AGirlAndABeast
Summary: There had been no words of anger. No mistrust. Nothing _sensible_ that told them the relationship _had_ to end. // Sansa & Tyrion, Modern AU.  One-shot!
Relationships: Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Two Steps Away

Two Steps Away

by Demelza

_Dedicated to Hani, who deserves all the angsty and fluffy Sanrion things!_

\/

Having laid awake in bed for close on three hours, Tyrion now stood in the kitchen before the open refrigerator door. His bare legs, arms and chest were cold from the fact his black boxers were the only article of clothing to adorn his body. He didn’t know what he wanted. Sandwiches were usually his go-to snack when things got tough, but he honestly doubted food could fix the emptiness he was feeling inside.

He and Sansa had been roommates for two years now. They’d hung out as mates, been study partners for every exam, heck they’d gone out on double dates with various potential partners, even watched cheesy romantic comedies together to get over the pain of each and every break up.

But this time it was different. This time the breakup was theirs and he didn’t know how to get his mind through it.

With a sigh he closed the refrigerator door and suddenly the apartment was met with almost-darkness.

He moved to the end of the kitchen counter and stopped in his steps when his gaze fell to the sofa where the breakup had taken place.

There had been no words of anger. No mistrust. Nothing _sensible_ that told them the relationship _had_ to end.

It was their friends. Their interfering fathers. His bitch sister.

Sansa was only in her second year while he was in his fourth; he was graduating at the end of the semester and she still had another two years to go before she finished her degree. His leaving for work in New York City meant they wouldn’t be able to see each other unless she could magically get another scholarship to finish her training in the Big Apple. But she was doing so well here in London.

Tyrion had decided he couldn’t uplift her from that.

Two years into this friendship, three days into the relationship they’d been dancing around and avoiding since the start, _and it was over._

Tyrion felt like his legs could no longer keep him upright thanks to the weight of all that guilt, so he sidestepped to one of the open-back barstools at the counter, climbed up onto it to catch his breath. It was only now that all realization of what had taken place those few hours ago began to come at him in full throttle.

Though they hadn’t said the actual words to end what had barely begun between them, everything he’d dreamed of having with Sansa had slipped out of his grasp.

_“We’d have been terrible together.”_

_“Completely agreed.”_

_“Not to forget you’re so damn scruffy I got beard burn when you kissed me.”_

His answer to her had been a joking, ‘Imagine what kissing you did to my neck!’

Now, though, a breath caught in his throat. The best thing he had going in his life had been unfairly taken from him.

_“For a while there I thought something between us was... what I wanted.”_

They’d both agreed it wasn’t.

But she _was_ what Tyrion wanted. Saying otherwise had been at the pressure of his family, of friends. Of his desire to not uplift her life.

All the love he’d felt for her in the past two years hadn’t suddenly vanished. He couldn’t erase it, much less try to escape from it.

He couldn’t and wouldn’t _because_ _he was_ _still very much in love with her_.

Sighing, his chest heavy, Tyrion got down off the bar stool at the same moment the door to Sansa’s room opened and she appeared in the doorway. Leaning against the arch with a scarcely audible sigh, she stared at the sofa as he had done those minutes ago.

He watched her for a moment. Watched as she played with her hair, just as she had done the night past when they’d agreed friendship was the best option for them.

Her hand momentarily fell to her chest then, before going to her stomach, and he noticed she was wearing an oversized New York Giants t-shirt. He smiled, thinking about how she’d always looked good in red; from the little red dress she wore on their double dates to the oversized red t-shirts she always wore in the aftermath of a breakup.

It was almost as if she had heard his thoughts, because in the limited light he could see her smiling too.

_“I’ll always love you, Lannister.”_

_“Yeah, and I’ll always love you, Stark.”_

The thought of those words, the ones he never told anyone else, not even his family, made him smile. But the smile was pained and when it faded he found himself sighing aloud.

“Tyrion?” Sansa quickly asked, and he could hear the hint of panic in her voice.

“H-hey,” he breathed, a little startled himself.

She stared right at him. “What are you doing in the dark?”

Swallowing, Tyrion ran his fingers through his hair. “Nothin’. I was thinking about getting something to eat, but I...”

He didn’t finish.

Sansa stepped away from the arch, took a few quiet steps into the lounge as he did. “How... how are you uh... I mean....”

The words were hard for her. They were hard for him too.

“I’ve been better,” he said, not wanting to lie to her. “You?”

“Same as you.”

Staring at one another for a long few moments, they both took a step forward.

“Listen... Tyrion...”

“...Sansa...”

She smiled, and he did too.

“You go first,” she said.

“No, you go ahead...”

She paused, pursing her lips sweetly for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“I’d just say something... _stupid_ ,” he said with a shrug.

“No. You wouldn’t.”

He smiled. “Thanks for saying so.”

“You’re a smart guy, Tyrion.”

He huffed, the words ‘in my own stupid way’ going through his mind. “If I was so smart, Sansa. Then you and I...”

His words caused her breath to visibly catch. “Me and you...?” she asked, voice gentle.

“It...” Tyrion took a step toward her, paused to catch his breath at the realization there were only a few steps distance between them now. “It would have worked out different. More... right.”

He saw her bite her lower lip. Watched as unshed tears shimmered in her eyes as she gently shook her head. “It’s not just you, Tyrion. Things got all...” Taking in a breath and holding it, she sighed softly. “Because of us both.”

“Not one bit of it is your fault, Sansa. I’m the one leaving for New York in a few weeks...”

“I’m the one who’s stuck here for two more years.”

Tyrion took a step towards Sansa again, and she matched his step with one of her own, her chest beginning to rise and fall quickly.

“The timing was all wrong...”

They were only two steps away now. Two steps away from being back where they’d began. Tyrion’s heart raced at the thought. Raced because he feared he’d lose it again.

“We’re...” he began.

“...good friends...” they both said.

Hearing the words on his own lips, _and hers_ , Tyrion sighed heavily. “God, this is so damn unfair.”

“I know, sweetie,” Sansa said, closing the gap between them and placing her left hand on his shoulder. “It is.”

She’d never called him sweetie before. She’d reserved it for her friends and her younger brothers.

Hesitantly, and the voices of his family and their friends telling him to do otherwise, he tenderly placed both hands on Sansa’s hips. “I’ve dreamt about this... about us, for so long... and now... I can’t just... I can’t...”

“...push it away?” she asked, gazing longingly at him.

He nodded. “I know it sounds selfish...”

“It doesn’t.”

Like a beat, his breath caught and he parted his lips to ask, “Doesn’t it?” breathlessly.

Shaking her head, she whispered, “Not to me.”

Standing silent for a moment that felt like it was far too long, Tyrion drew Sansa a little closer to him. “What are we meant to do, Sansa?” he asked, his voice soft, unsure.

“Honestly...?” She searched his eyes. “I’m not sure.”

Saddened, he cast his gaze downward.

“But one thing I do know...” Sansa began, and she lightly bit her lower lip in thought. “I don’t want to just... shut off all these...” A pause and she closed her eyes. A soft sigh, she whispered, “...these _incredible_ feelings I feel for you.”

Tyrion murmured, “I don’t either.”

He could feel the warmth of her body coursing through him. Could feel her every slow, even breath against his skin. His eyes drifted shut and they held each other, his head resting against her abdomen while she hugged him close in turn.

They stood there like that for the longest while, when Sansa moved and her absence pained him.

Opening his eyes slowly, he lifted his head to gaze up at her. “...Sansa...?”

Saying nothing, she lowered herself to one knee while she moved her hand to his chest. He lifted his own hands to her shoulders, and he felt his stomach flutter as she learned closer, brought her lips to his collarbone, the feather-light kiss sending a radiance of warmth into his arms and legs.

“Sansa...” His murmur faint, Tyrion’s eyes drifted shut again.

He felt her lips at his neck then.

“I’ve never...”

She moved to his throat.

“...felt...”

His chin.

“...this...”

She kissed the side of his mouth, _teasingly_.

“...wa- _ay_...”

Slowly and deeply, she pressed her lips to his in the sweetest kiss. He circled his arms around the back of her neck, pulling her closer still. Her lips were soft, her kisses deep, and he prayed they’d never end.

When, “I haven’t either,” she finally murmured. Their lips had parted and he opened his eyes to hers. “We don’t have to do this, Tyrion...”

“No. I want to. I mean... if it’s what you want...”

“It is,” she whispered, a lone tear rolling down her right cheek. “I love you, Tyrion. I don’t care how we make it work, I want this. I want us. _I want you.”_

“Me too,” he said, sounding a touch more excited than he’d intended to.

It made Sansa smile, and Tyrion couldn’t help but smile back before he captured her mouth with a heated kiss of his own.

Whatever lay ahead, _they were going to do it together._

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